Interpretations
by OstentatiousQuerida
Summary: Previously 'Fantasy' - Currently in the 'pre-event' chapters - After a tragic event, Bella's world is turned upside down and she is struggling to remain normal. But how much of a fantasy is the golden-eyed stranger she's been dreaming about?
1. Fantasy

Fantasy

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All fantasy should have a solid base in reality.

_**- Max Beerbohm**_

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The forest was oddly familiar. I had been here many times and tonight was no exception. I was looking up at the forest canopy, craning my neck to view the densely packed arrangement of leaves. It was thick, deep green in the night, with branches and boughs coming from all angles to create a thick blanket above me. Small patches of the sky were visible, in the rare places where the cover was thin, allowing me to gaze up at the stars. There were thousands, millions, more than I had ever seen in one place before. It was like a poster of the night sky that you could always find in a science lab, so clear I could pick out the few constellations I knew with ease. I let out a small sigh at the beauty of it, it almost didn't look real.

My gaze came back down to earth slowly, following the moonlight that broke through the foliage in thin rays – enough to provide me with light to analyse my surroundings. I found that I was dressed in hiking clothes; sturdy looking brown boots with classic blue drainpipe jeans tucked into them. My sweater was deep blue, and holding my hands in front of my face to inspect them, I could see I had a pair of fingerless, grey gloves on. I was dressed warmly, for the elements. I laughed quietly to myself at this fact.

I was dreaming, of course. There would be no way I would be surrounded by trees if I were conscious. I was your heat-loving girl, sunny beaches or dry landscapes equalled a happy Bella. Dripping foliage just did not factor into that equation.

Why I kept dreaming about forests was beyond me? There were certainly no forests like this in Phoenix, the place I resided with my mother, Renee, and her new husband Phil. I had never been a nature girl either, the very thought of _'outdoorsy'_ activities made my stomach churn. Who knew how many injuries I could inflict on myself in the wilderness? I wasn't the most coordinated soul, and everyone that had ever had the misfortune of being in gym with me knew it. I was forever coming home with bruises and scrapes from falling over or walking into things. It was no small miracle that I was not brain damaged, with the amount of head injuries I had received during the seventeen years I had been alive.

I felt myself begin to walk, without making a conscious decision to do so. Still, I reminded myself, this was a dream, and in dreams, anything could happen, especially when you had an imagination as overactive as mine. My other woodland dreams had started out in a similar fashion, always at night, and always with me walking somewhere. I was being drawn further into the woodland –gravity or a magnet – something was pulling me forward. My pace was fairly quick and it pleased me that my dream-self was not as clumsy as my real-self was. The foliage grew denser as I travelled, I found myself surrounded by green on all sides – leafy ferns, moss and a wide variety of trees. I didn't attempt to identify them, I felt no desire to stop and admire their vast trunks, or peer up to the canopy and wonder exactly how tall they were. My steps stayed in a straight line with no effort. Perhaps I had my own built in compass, leading me towards north.

"Bella."

I turned myself in the direction of the most perfect sound I had ever heard. I could only faintly pick out a figure in the blackest part of the forest. It was _him_. The unknown entity that often graced my dreams with his presence. At least, I thought it was a he. I had never actually seen he-it.... I cut my train of thought of there. _Of course it's a he_, I scolded myself. The velvety voice had a distinct masculine edge. Even with that, it was still beautiful, musical even. If I hadn't already known I was dreaming this would have been unadulterated proof. A voice like this was too perfect for reality, I often wondered if this voice was too perfect to even be in my dreams. How I could conjure up such a flawless sound was beyond me.

I had never seen him clearly before, my beautiful figment of my imagination, he was always in the shadows, always in front of me, but I could never quite get to him. This annoyed me. A voice as amazing as that had to belong to an equally amazing person. I longed to see him – to see if he lived up to what I imagined him to be like. From his outline, I knew he was tall, at least six foot, and that was it. My dreams evidently weren't as inventive as I thought they were, if that was all I could come up with. Tonight, with the moon-rays scattering behind him I noticed his tousled hair. At first glance, it looked messy, but on closer analysis, it was a very styled and controlled messy. Mr. Unknown was obviously going for the bed-head look.

"Bella," His voice was softer now, saturated with some unknown emotion. I stared harder at him. I couldn't tell what he was wearing – a jacket perhaps? Or was it a sweater? It didn't matter, for my eyes were drawn to a much more striking feature._ His _eyes. The moonlight illuminated them in the most peculiar way, fiving me a completely new view of them. They were bright, like in a horror movie – when all you see of the predator is its shining eyes in the dark, however they didn't invoke fear within me. Instead, they were intriguing and I couldn't help but stare at them. I realised I'd been holding my breath – who knew you could do that in a dream – and let it go shakily. The colour was the most interesting – a brilliant shade of liquid gold. Beautiful.

I tilted my head to the side in confusion, trying to gain some new perspective on the strange colour of his eyes. It couldn't be a trick of the light, but how else could you explain it? I had heard of pink eyes before, but never gold. I'd never seen anything like it before. It was almost unnatural. I knew I should be shocked, wasn't that the normal reaction to the unknown? Instead, I was intrigued; the force that pulled me into the forest willed me to go closer._ I_ wanted to go closer.

Hesitantly I lifted my right foot and placed it in front of my left. My muscles responded slowly, making my curiosity ever more present. After that step I stopped. Should I move closer? Did he want me to move closer? I'm sure my indecision was present in my eyes. My open book – my mother called me. He could probably tell exactly what I was thinking...

"Don't be afraid."

I took another shaky step forward and another, closing the gap between us ever so carefully – as if one sudden movement could burst the bubble, break the uneasy quiet of the forest and cause him, being a dream after all, to disappear.

I was so close now. I reached out my hand to touch the figures face as I noticed him moving towards the light. I could almost see him clearly, just a few more steps and I'd be able to put a face to the wonderful voice.

A shrill noise pierced the silence, halting my progress. My hand hovered inches from his cheek. It was a beeping sound, growing louder and infinitely more annoying by the second. He froze and I looked frantically around me to find out where the noise was coming from. _What could possibly make a noise like that in a forest?_ I turned back to him, hoping that he could provide me with an answer, to find him gone. I was alone.

"_Bella?"_ It was a different voice this time. Faint, feminine and definitely not his. I heard it again, calling my name, louder this time, calling me back to reality.

My eyes slowly opened to find my mother standing over me. She generally did this when I didn't respond to my alarm clock accordingly. However, I hadn't been expecting her quite so close. I gasped in surprise and rolled over, realising too late that this was the wrong move. I tumbled off the bed, hitting my hard wooden bedroom floor, imprisoned in my bedclothes. My sheets were bound tightly around my legs making it darn near impossible to move, no matter how much I struggled.

I was awake. The forest I had dreamt of was long gone, taking the beautiful figment of my imagination with it. I wrestled with my sheets slightly, giving up when I realised I was only getting more tangled. I sighed and lay my head against the floor in defeat. It had only been a dream, and no matter how much I wanted it to be real, it never would be. It was quite depressing really.

I sighed._ Time for another day._

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**Disclaimer:** I don't own Twilight or the characters, I'm just borrowing them while Stephanie Meyer's back is turned.

**A/N:** So what did you think? I've been wanting to post this for a while. I did post this a while back, but I took it off because I couldn't think of anywhere to go with it. I changed it around a little though, and its now a one-shot (unless I get a brilliant idea, in which case it'll become a story). Just a little minor-AU about if Bella dreamt of Edward before she actually met him in Forks.

Check out my other story, Ambiguity. (A little shameless advertising there).

Reviews make me happy.

Ostentatious Querida =]


	2. Reality

Reality

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Don't be afraid of the space between your dreams and reality. If you can dream it, you can make it so.

_**- Anon**_

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School passed slowly, the minutes stretching to seem like hours, as I longed to be out of the place. These days, school was just an awkward obligation; I'd long given up the notion that I actually had real friends here. Sure, I had acquaintances - people that would say hi to me if they passed me in the halls, or ask me what the homework was for Spanish, but nobody I could call a companion. I had no-one that I could call up just because I wanted to talk, or hang out with aimlessly. I was used to it. I would smile back at the people that said hi to me, but the smile would never reach my eyes. I would tell whoever asked what our Spanish homework was, but as usual, the conversation ended there. I tried not to let it get to me. In a year and a half I'd be leaving for college, with a chance of a fresh start and the opportunity to make real friends. I could barely wait.

Scottsdale High was more institution than school. Chain-link fences surrounded the three storey building, with metal detectors to greet us at the main entrance. The grey bricks of the main building reminded more of a prison than the high school it was _supposed_ to be. It was a big school as well, catering for over 3000 students, making it easy to get lost in the blur of high school life. There were plenty of times when I felt claustrophobic in the halls, as throngs of students pushed past me, looking straight through me as they hurried to their destination. At times, it was like I wasn't even there. It was a hectic atmosphere, one that could easily overwhelm someone who wasn't used to it. No wonder I preferred the solitary pursuit of reading than group activities, such as spirit rallies and football games. There seemed to be something wrong with me in that sense, as I could find no-one I could really connect with.

I was extra clumsy today, and for the second time in a month, I walked into someone's open locker door, not paying attention to where I was going. People where used to my clumsiness by now, but that still didn't stop their staring when they noticed me on the floor. I simply smiled and picked myself up off the ground, attempting to hold onto whatever little dignity I had left. That wasn't much. I'd inherited my crippling clumsiness from my father, who was the police chief of a tiny town in Washington state. I saw him once a year, every summer for a few weeks, so I was more inclined to think my clumsiness was genetic, rather than something I had picked up by watching him. We spoke on the phone every so often - I wasn't _completely_ cut off from him - but sometimes I wished I could spend a little more time with him. He was my dad after all. Unfortunately, a distance of over 1000 miles stopped that from happening.

I was suitably bored by the time dinner ended. I had taken to eating in the library, behind the large bookshelf in the classics section. It was slightly less pathetic than eating lunch in the cafeteria alone, and it allowed me ample time to read. I was much more interested in nineteenth century England than school gossip anyway. However, my day was going horribly and I had just discovered some long forgotten biology homework, questions on DNA replication, which was due in today. I spent my lunch hour frantically trying to recall the phases of mitosis and meiosis, as I attempted to finish the questions before the lesson, last period.

My day was made worse by the monotony that came with English. It used to be my favourite lesson, but there was only so many times you could go over Shakespeare before even it lost its magic. I listened to the rhythmic tic of the clock. Tic- tic – tic... wasted seconds turning into wasted minutes... It was times like this when I believed that school was pointless. Somewhere between the teacher explaining the plot of Romeo and Juliet for the second and third time I tuned out. It was so frustrating. I already knew this.

I put my head down on the desk. It wasn't as if anyone would notice. I was sat at the back of the room, and the only person with a direct view of me was the teacher, who was too busy trying to convince the rest of the class that Shakespeare actually _was_ interesting to care what I was doing. I felt oddly tired, like I hadn't been getting enough sleep, though I _knew_ I was getting the required 8 hours a night. I could feel my eyelids dropping as the sound of the classroom faded away. I tried to force them open. How stupid was I going to look if I fell asleep...

_"Bella,"_ A new sound entered my consciousness. It was a beautiful sound, instantly calming me for some unknown reason. I recognised the voice instantly.

"What do _you_ want?" I asked, exasperated, I _really_ didn't have time for this. I was _supposed_ to be trying to stay awake in my English lesson. I didn't think to wonder how worried I should be that I was hearing voices in my head.

_"It's Edward,"_ came the reply. His tone had changed, instead of sounding surprised it was now... _resigned?_

"Edward?" I repeated, wanting to make sure I'd got it right. It fit, I supposed. Everything about the way he spoke screamed nineteenth century gentleman, his vocabulary especially. I didn't think that reading too many classics had affected my brain at this point.

"Yes," it sounded more like a breath.

"What are you doing in my English..." I began to ask.

"_Miss Swan?" _Another voice called, pulling me back to the present.

"Huh?" I said, raising my head from the desk and trying to remember where I was. I heard a few snickers from the other students in the class, amused by my blank-out. The teacher sighed in exasperation, rolling her eyes slightly. I had fallen asleep in my English class. _Brilliant._

"I wanted to know your views on the importance of time in Romeo and Juliet."

"Err..." I tried to snap myself out of the post-sleep stupor that filled me. I shook my head one in an attempt to clear it. _Yes Bella, you do have views on this topic._ "I think time is very important."

"Care to expand," I wondered how much trouble I would get in if I gave the smart answer. Apparently I didn't think too much of the risk, as before my mind had even registered it, I was giving my answer.

"It is crucial. Shakespeare mentions time a lot in this play, like he's trying to signify that life is short, and we should make the most of it. Romeo and Juliet are married after knowing each other for one day, they are dead three days later. The couple seem to be racing towards their demise, almost like it's inevitable. It's as if they are fated to die. They get a taste of love, but they don't have time to appreciate it."

"Excellent answer Miss Swan." She said, "But next time, let's leave the sleeping to your home hours,"

My classmates snickered again. _I_ groaned internally. My streak of bad luck was set to continue.

My mind was filled with him, as I walked home. _Edward_, I reminded myself, my own voice a poor imitation of his perfect musical baritone. I had never had recurring dreams before, so this was a strange experience for me. One of my mother's many 'phases' involved decoding her dreams and burning lots of incense. That was before the pottery classes, but after her yoga obsession. I was usually dragged along to her many classes, as she couldn't convince her new husband to join her. I mainly humoured her, her phases lasted little longer than high school romances. _Not that you would know anything about that._ I wondered if we still had the book she used somewhere in the house. I couldn't be certain, but resolved to look anyway.

I sat cross-legged on my bed, dream book in hand, a few hours later. It had been located after a short search at the bottom of the book shelf in the living room, next to a book on_ 'making your own floral arrangements'_ and another on the _'art of wine tasting'_. I hadn't been invited along to those classes. I had taken a glass of water up to my room with me, and was sipping it as I flicked through the pages, trying to find something about the events of my dream. It was alphabetical, so naturally, I came to forests first.

_'Forests' _I read _'often signify a transitional phase in your life, normally when you are faced with a major decision. The natural aspect of the forest suggests you follow your instincts.' _I groaned. It was one of _those_ books - the kind that gave out vague descriptions so almost anyone could relate it to their own personal life. I didn't know why I'd bothered reading it in the first place. I flipped through more pages, searching for S.

_'Stars indicate a major decision. You are putting some decision in the hands of fate or luck. It can also mean you are searching for something, or aspiring for greatness.' _Again with the decisions. As far as I knew there was no great decision looming in the near future in my life. The most I had to decide was what to wear in the morning. I shook my head at my own stupidity. Clearly I was reading _far_ too much into my dreams.

Something at the bottom of that page caught my eye as I went to shut the book. By the entry for _'Strangers' _a single line was written;_ 'something unexpected is about to happen.' _It stood out, different from the other entries by the length of the analysis and the sense of foreboding it created within me. _That could mean anything_, I told myself, but that didn't stop the feelings of unease that filled me.

Phil, my mother's husband, called for me before I had much time to analyse further. He was home from baseball training early, strictly minor league, and had opted to cook tonight. Besides me, he was the only decent cook in the house; we had both made a mutual decision to ban my mother from the kitchen, her 'adventurous' recipes were never very appetising. It was a miracle we both hadn't died from food-related illnesses before she married Phil. I decided to put the dream out of my mind, convinced I was thinking too much about it _and_ my mystery stranger.

That night I dreamt of him again.

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**Disclaimer;** I still don't own Twilight.

**A/N;** So I couldn't stay away. I got over 100 hits on this story within two days of posting it, which really shocked me. So I guess I'm continuing this. Still not sure on where I'm going to go with this, but I'll give it a shot. Thanks to **mz(.)spiffy**, my ever loyal reviewer (who is always offers encouragement and support with my work), and **spellbound-99**, for reviewing the last chapter. It's always nice to know what people think of my writing. And thank you to _you_, for reading this. If you have any questions about this, please review and I will do my best to answer them.

I just invented a high school for Bella to attend as I couldn't pick which one she would go to, and I didn't want to sound silly to anyone who actually went there when I described it wrong.

Grr... sorry about how long it took me to get this up. I was all set to do my final edit on Sunday night, but fanfiction had other plans. That glitch seriously annoyed me. I'm glad its fixed now.

Reviews make me really happy *hint hint*.

Perhaps a little preview of the next chapter will sweeten the deal?

Ostentatious Querida =]


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